


Ineffable Dads

by Proskenion



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Gen, M/M, Spoilers, Swearing, Takes place during and just after the last episode, Well a bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 05:06:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19166419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Proskenion/pseuds/Proskenion
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale have taken Reader under their wings some years ago. When they're both taken to Heaven and Hell to be judge as traitors, Reader is desperately worried. But things might not be as dark as it seems.





	1. Prologue (or a bit of setting up)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! 
> 
> First, I'm sorry, this is purely self-indulgent. I love those two way too much and I needed a hug.
> 
> I wanted it to be both for male! or female!reader, so I used "her/him" as pronouns - let me know if I should just change the pronouns as "they/them". 
> 
> Enjoy :)

You run as fast as you can, glancing over your shoulder regularly, only to see that the man is still after you. Without a second thought, you throw open the door of the first shop you see and storm inside. 

You stop a moment when you realise it’s an old bookshop. You smile at the books, before running to hide behind one of the shelves. Shelves full of very, very old books. The smell is a delight, but you can’t really focus on that right now. The door flings open again and you hear the man that is chasing you saying :

« I know you’re in there ! »

« What’s going on ? » asks another voice coming from your left. 

You startle and you found yourself face to face with a funny man with blond curls so bright they almost feel white – actually, everything about him almost feel white. You immediately put your finger on your lips to tell him not to say anything, mouthing « please. » The man looks at you for a brief moment and you look back with pleading eyes. 

« Show yourself, » the other man, the one chasing you, calls again. 

The curly white man gives you a funny look before rolling his eyes and going to meet your pursuer. 

« Good afternoon, Sir, » the curly man says. « I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave, we’re closed. »

« I know she/he’s in here, I’ve seen her/him coming ! »

« I’m sorry, dear sir, I’m afraid I don’t understand. There’s only me here. Now, if you’d be so kind, » he adds, gesture towards the door. « As I said, we’re closed. » 

« Bullocks, » the other mutters. 

But he goes out anyway, and the curly man close the door behind him, turning the « open » sign over to its « closed » side.

« He’s gone, » he says, going back to you.

« Thank you. » 

« Now, first thing first, may I ask your name ? I am Aziraphale. »

« (Y/N), » you answer, a bit on the defensive. 

« Delighted, » Aziraphale says with a smile. « Now, can you explain me what this is all about ? Why was this man pursuing you ? »

« I might have stolen an apple from his shop, » you confess, though not feeling really shameful.

« I beg your pardon ? » Aziraphale exclaims, looking as if he has just swallowed something absolutely disgusting. « You’re not suppose to steal things ! That’s bad ! »

« Oh, come on, it’s just an apple, » you shrug, amused by his scandalised face. 

« It doesn’t matter ! You’re not suppose to steal anything ! »

« That’s a beautiful bookshop you have here, » you declare, ignoring his remark and strolling among the shelves. A glance to him makes you see he’s blushing with pleasure.

« Thank you, » he says softly. « But… »

« So many books, » you resume, truly amazed, « so many old books. » 

« Why did you steal that apple ? Where are your parents ? »

« I don’t have parents, » you reply, taking one of the books from its shelf and opening it.

« Come on, everyone has parents. »

« My dad’s dead and I don’t know my mother. Happy ? » you lash out a bit sharply, without looking up from the book. You hear Aziraphale mumbling apologies but you don’t really pay him attention as your eyes widen, not believing what you see on the pages. 

« Is this… Is this really a signed copy of Hamlet ? How did you get that ? »

« Well… »

« Wait… This is addressed to you, how could this be addressed to you ? » you ask, suddenly very suspiscious, looking up from the book straight to Aziraphale. 

« Well, it’s not… It’s not strictly… »

At that exact moment the door opens again, and a man’s voice call :

« Angel ? Where are you ? »

« Right hear, my dear boy, » Aziraphale answers, hurrying in the direction of the voice. You follow him and see him standing near a very thin man wearing sun glasses, and muttering something in his ear. 

« Ah, » the new comer said.

« Who’s that ? » you ask, mischievous. « Is he your partner or something ? »

« Wh… NO ! » the two of them reply simultaneously, which makes you chuckle. 

« Define partner ? » the thin man asks.

« We’re not partners, » Aziraphale exclaims, « we’re not even friends ! »

« Sure, » you say, sarcastic.

« Who’s that ? » the thin man asks.

« Well… »

« I’m (Y/N). Your neither friend or partner here kinda helped me get away with murder. »

« You what ? » the man asks Aziraphale.

« It’s not exactly… »

« I stole an apple, I needed somewhere to hide and Aziraphale helped. I mean, he didn’t know about the stealing at first, or I have the feeling he wouldn’t have helped at all. »

« You… » the thin man says with a smile, « you stole… Good job, you should have said it earlier. I’m Crowley, » he adds, offering his hand.

« Don’t encourage her/him, » Aziraphale hisses. 

« Why stealing an apple ? » Crowley asks you, visibly amused.

« I don’t know, the thrill of it. »

« I really like her/him, » Crowley says with a wide, gleeful smile.

« Of course you do, » Aziraphale comments, rolling up his eyes. 

« All this doesn’t explain how you can have a copy of Hamlet signed by Shakespeare himself, addressed to you, » you say, staring at Aziraphale suspisciously. « And why are you keeping your sunglasses inside ? » you add, turning to Crowley. « It’s not even sunny outside ! »

« Well… » Aziraphale starts.

« Actually, it’s… » Crowley goes on.

« Don’t try to fool me, » you warn, « I know something is going on here. » Before neither of them could do or say anything more, you rush on Crowley and take off his glasses. Your jaw drops. « Your eyes… What's wrong with your eyes? They're... They look… » what? Snake-like? Demonic? Oh… A crazy thought crosses your mind. « Wait, did you call him angel ? »

At the way the two men glance at each other you know you’ve put your finger on something. You stare at Aziraphale in disbelief. Indeed, everything look so bright, luminous about him. As for Crowley…

« No way, » you exclaim. « You can’t… Oh my G… »

« No ! I don’t know what you’re thinking about, but no, that’s not it, you’re completely wrong, » Aziraphale tries to explain, without managing to mask the fact his suddenly feeling very agitated.

« Drop it, angel. She/He got it, » Crowley mutters. 

You look at them with eyes so wide you feel their going to jump out of your head. For a brief moment you’re too marvelled to talk, but when your senses come back again, you finally exclaim :

« Fuck ! This is rad ! »

*

« Wooooohoooooo ! » you yell, the wind whipping your face by the open window. « Faster ! »

Crowley laughes maniacally beside you before pressing the accelerator of his Bentley, Freddie Mercury singing loudly in the speakers. 

*

« And this is the very first copy of The Portrait of Dorian Grey. Look inside, it’s signed. »

You open the book with reverence and marvel. You read the autograph and burst into a laugh.

« Oh, Aziraphale ! »

The angel blushes slightly, smiling with pleasure. 

*

« Happy Birthday, my sweet child. »

« Happy Birthday, little brat. »

You smile with delight, tears tickling at the corner of your eyes. A lunch at the Ritz, for your birthday, with your favourite people in the world, your angel and your demon, how life could be better ? 

You bless that day you decided to steal an apple, just for the thrill of it.


	2. Now let’s go to the point (or a silly, fluffy story of an orphan and their two ineffable Dads)

You’re hurrying in the streets, not really minding the people you pass by – you’ve nearly knocked out an old lady, which makes you feel both shameful and amused. _They’re really rubbing off on me_ , you think with a smile.

You don’t walk into St James’s Park, you run. You can’t wait to meet them. They have been quite busy preventing the end of the world for the past few days, which mean you haven’t seen them in more than a week now, and you’re not used to it. Actually, you usually saw them every day. 

When you spot them, buying ice creams down the alley, you can’t restrain a happy giggle. But the second later you freeze with shock. Two men in bright suits has just appeared behind Aziraphale, gagging him and taking him away. Crowley tries to run after him but he’s stopped by two men, one of them striking him hard with a crowbar. You gasp in horror as Crowley collapses. The instant later, they’ve all disappeared : Aziraphale, Crowley, and their attackers.

There’s only one plausible explanation. They’ve been respectively taken to Hell and Heaven to be put on trial. They’ve mention something like that to you last time they contacted you. But you weren’t expecting _that_. 

*

The first place you’ve thought of running to is Aziraphale’s bookshop. You have a key. You’re happy it’s still there. But when you go inside, it suddenly hurts. Everything inside reminds you of Aziraphale, and Aziraphale is… No, you can’t say it, you can’t even think it. 

You walk slowly through the shelves, carressing the books softly. Suddenly you stop. You fingers just came accross the angel’s signed copy of Hamlet, and you remember the first time you’ve met. You chucckle, and then tears start running free from your eyes along your cheeks. 

What if they never come back ? What if you can never see them again ? What if, this time, they’ve put themselves in so much trouble that they won’t get away with it ? 

Now that you’ve started crying you can’t stop. You rush to the back of the shop and curl up on Aziraphale’s sofa. You’ve never felt so lonely and desperate in your entire life.

*

The day is dying and you’re still sobbing on Aziraphale’s sofa. You have dozed off from time to time, only to wake up crying before dozing off again. So when you hear the door opening and two voices chatting, you first think you’re dreaming. 

« Ah, what an enchanting lunch we just had, my dear. The Ritz never fails to charm me. »

« It’s even better when you think of how upset they must be Up there and Below. »

« By the way, did I you hear that nightingale ? Or was it my imagination ? »

Recognising the voices, you jump from the sofa and run to the door. You stop when you find yourself face to face with Crowley and Aziraphale, both visibly surprised to find you here.

« Aziraphale ? Crowley ? » you exclaim, bewildered. « It’s you, it’s really you ! »

You rush to them and fall on their necks, holding them as tight as you can.

« Oh my sweet child, of course it’s us, » says Aziraphale, hugging you in return. 

« Oh, I’m so happy… I thought… I saw… Wait, did you say _Ritz_ ? » you suddenly exclaim, jumping away from them as if burned by their touch. « Did you just have lunch ? »

« Well, yes, we did, » Crowley answered, raising an eyebrow interrogatively. 

« You… _How could you_ ? » you lash out.

The two of them frown, not understanding your sudden outburst. Aziraphale opens his mouth to say something but you cut him short :

« I’ve been crying here all day ! » you scream. « I was in St James’s Park this morning, I’ve seen when… _I thought you were dead_ ! »

« Oh, » Aziraphale whispered.

« Don’t be so dramatic, » Crowley laughed. « We’re fine, see ? »

« Shut up ! Don’t you dare patronise me like this, Anthony J. Crowley, or I swear I’ll spray you with Holy Water ! »

« Come on, we both know you wouldn’t, » Crowley mused.

« TRY ME ! » you yell at his face, so fiercely that for a split second Crowley wonders if you wouldn’t be able to do it, after all. 

« Listen, my sweet child, » Aziraphale intervenes, « I understand you’re upset. We’re very sorry, we had no idea. Come here. »

And while he speaks he opens his arms, and you collapse into his embrace, sobbing :

« I thought I’d never see you again… »

« It’s ok, we’re safe, » Aziraphale whispers reassuringly. Then he turns to Crowley giving him a look meaning he should say or do something, too. The demon groans and come closer. Patting your back, he says :

« There, there, stop crying. You really look awful with your swollen, red eyes, and snot dropping from your nose. »

« That’s such a mean thing to say, » you reply, looking at him. Crowley gives you a wide, cheeky smile and you chuckle. 

« There, that’s better, » Aziraphale says, wiping away your tears. « Now, let me make you a nice cup of tea. »

« Actually, I could use something stronger than tea, » you answer as the angel is walking away. 

« Yeah, I agree with the little brat, » Crowley adds nonchalantly. 

« Oh, alright then. »

*

It’s now way past midnight and it’s completely dark outside. You’ve drunken so much Château Neuf du Pape that you’ve dozed off on the sofa, your head on Aziraphale’s lap and your legs resting on Crowley’s knees. They've explained the body swipe and how both the demons Bellow and angels Up there have been utterly surprised and slightly terrified, which has made you laugh for so long that your stomach started to hurt. After that you've just kept talking and laughing and drinking. Especially drinking. Too much drinking... 

« Maybe it’s time to sobber up and go to bed, » Aziraphale mumbles.

« Yeah, I think so, » Crowley utters with difficulty. « Her/Him, too, or she/he’ll nurse a nasty headache tomorrow. »

« Sure, »

Through your drunken sleep, you feel Aziraphale’s hand on your forehead. A strange feeling of cold run through you, and the instant later you’re sobber. But you still feel groggy and you don’t move.

« Let’s take her/him in my bedroom, » Aziraphale whispers. 

Crowley nods in approval and gets up, trying not to wake you up. Then he cups you in his arms and takes you upstairs, followed by Aziraphale. 

A couple of minutes later you’re lying in the angel’s bed. You open your eyes and you see the two of them walking quietly out of the room.

« Don’t go, » you call in a hoarse voice. « Stay with me, please. Both of you. »

« Erm… » Crowley mumbles, « I have to water my plants… »

« Not the plants watering excuse again, Crowley, it doesn’t work with me, » you reply, sleepily. « Please, lay with me. There’s room enough for the three of us. » 

You move a bit to curl up in the middle of the bed. As none of them move or talk, you add :

« Come on, you owe me that, after leaving me on my own, so hurt and terrified. »

« She/He’s got a point, » you hear Aziraphale say. 

An instant later you feel the angel’s hand on your cheek, and the mattress moves as Aziraphale lies down.

« There, my sweet child, I’m here. » 

You huddle your head against his chest and he wraps an arm around you. 

« Crowley, » you call in a breath.

You hear him groan in annoyance and muttering a « oh, fine, » and then you feel him lie down behind you. You immediately tangle your legs with his.

« Now, go to sleep, little brat, » he hissed.

« Good night, » you whisper, smiling.

« Good night, my sweet child, » Aziraphale says softly.

Then you feel his lips kissing your forehead gently and you fall asleep instantly, like by magic – or a miracle.

« She/He’s sound asleep, right ? » Crowley asks.

« Yes. She/He’ll be sleeping until tomorrow morning. »

« Good. »

Crowley goes to get up but the angel catches the sleeve of his jacket, saying :

« Don’t go, she/he’ll know if you do. » 

Crowley gives Aziraphale an annoyed glance, grumbling. But he lies back.

*

You’re the first to wake up in the morning, and you smile when you find yourself in the same position you fell asleep in. Well, almost. 

Aziraphale is still holding you, except the arm he has around you ends with his hands on Crowley’s shoulder. As for Crowley, he’s put his arm around you as well, his hand clenched on Aziraphale’s shirt, just below the angel’s waist. You smile. Looking up, you can see their two heads above yours, so close to one another that their noses almost touch. You smile even more. 

You close you eyes and stay like that, nestled in between the two of them. You couldn’t feel safer, be safer. With your two ineffable dads.

That’s the little nickname you’ve given them long ago. They don’t know. Or maybe they do, they’re a demon and an angel, after all. No, not _a_ demon and _an_ angel. _Your_ demon, _your_ angel.

Your ineffable dads.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> (PS: Feel free to signal me any error or grammar mistakes so I can correct them ^^)


End file.
